


Lucky Losers

by ChickadeeChick



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-15
Updated: 2012-04-15
Packaged: 2017-11-03 16:22:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/383478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChickadeeChick/pseuds/ChickadeeChick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andy can't sleep after his painfully early exit at the 2009 US Open.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lucky Losers

**Author's Note:**

> Because Sam needs more love, dammit. And Andy needed some too after that loss. I was so shocked I stared at my computer screen for like 5 minutes before I could move after it was over. Poor Andy. ::patpat::

Andy rolled over and grabbed his cell phone from the nightstand.  2:13am.  Four hours in bed and he hadn’t slept yet.    
  
Ah, fuck it.  
  
He got up and took the phone with him into the hotel suite’s bathroom, careful to not make any noise for fear of waking Brooklyn.  Door closed softly behind him, Andy slid the keyboard out, easily tapped a quick message, and sent it.   
  
_You up?_  
  
Andy looked up into the mirror at himself.  There weren’t really bags under his eyes but he still resembled someone who had been punched in the face.  He certainly felt like he had.  A light chirrup indicated that a responding message had come in.  
  
 _Am now..._ was followed half a second later with  _J/k… I’ve been up_  
  
One corner of Andy’s lips lifted and he rolled his eyes.  _Can I come over?_  
  
The response was immediate.   _You have to ask?_  
  
Andy actually smiled this time.  _Be there in 5 smartass_  
  
Sneaking back out into the bedroom, Andy grabbed the nearest t-shirt and jammed his feet into his sneakers.  He didn’t even bother to put pants on over his boxers.  He palmed a keycard on his way out the door, shirt only halfway on, as he made sure the door did not slam behind him.  
  
The door to room 612 was ajar when he got there.  Andy entered quietly and closed the door behind him, the lock clicking loudly in the silence.  The room was dark, the only light coming from the muted college football game on the TV.  The young American sitting on the couch turned his head at the entrance of the other man and smiled.  
  
Andy returned the smile and plopped himself down on the couch with a sigh, right next to the other man, their legs pressed together.  He let his head loll onto the back of the couch and slouched down further.    
  
A soft kiss was pressed to his jawline, to an exposed section of his neck.  “I know everyone and their sister’s cousin has said it already, but god were you amazing out there today.” was murmured into the skin below his ear.    
  
Andy let his eyes slip closed.  “I don’t want to talk about it.”  
  
“Good.  Because I’ve got nothing more to say about it.”    
  
“This.  This is why you don’t have a girlfriend.” Andy shook his head, but leaned into the touch of a warm hand sliding under his shirt and around his side.  Surprisingly sharp nails suddenly dug into soft skin and Andy yelped, almost jumping into the other man’s lap.  “Dammit Sam.”  
  
Sam laughed, nuzzling Andy’s collar.  “You ever think that I don’t want a girlfriend?”  
  
“What, you just going to keep hiring cute male interns?”  Andy pulled the hem of Sam’s shirt up and, with a little help from the wearer, over his head.  It landed clear across the room.    
  
“Ouch.”  Sam leaned away from Andy, looking down on him, flickering greens and reds from the TV screen painting his skin.  “That was a little below the belt.”  Andy’s hands wandered to said belt, tugging.  “And I’ll have you know that I made no moves on my intern.” Andy paused, his eyebrows shooting to his hairline while Sam moved to straddle his lap.  “Besides. I’ve told you before: only one at a time for me.” The older American looked away at that, his expression dropping with his hands.    
  
Sam sighed dramatically and placed Andy’s hands back onto his hips, hooking the other man’s thumbs under the waistband of his boxers.  “We go through this too often… stop being a twat about it, it is a total mood-killer.”  Andy looked up as if he was going to say something but promptly found his lips being parted by an eager tongue.  “Stop thinking.  I can hear you thinking.” Sam murmured against his lips.  “Let it go.”  
  
Andy’s hands slid around to grab Sam’s ass.  “Not letting this go.” He growled as he pulled the younger man down and against him.  Sam’s whole torso arched, his head flung back at the contact.    
  
“Damn right you’re not.” Sam growled back.  He yanked Andy’s shirt up and off while the other American concentrated on toeing off his sneakers.  Sam hummed appreciatively, hands running over a torso that was just a bit trimmer than it was a year previous.    
  
Moving in to run his lips along Sam’s collarbone, Andy smiled, nipping every few kisses.  He pulled Sam down, lips reaching up his neck, hips and thighs pressing hard into his own.  “Any chance you plan on dropping a few inches any time soon?” Andy craned to kiss Sam’s chin, not helped by the fact that Sam was suddenly straining to make his torso as long as possible.  “Come back down to the realm of us mere mortals?”  
  
Sam huffed and slouched, lips easily finding Andy’s.  “This coming from the top player in the US for… how many years now?  Besides, it is only four-“  
  
“It is all in your torso!” Andy interrupted with something that almost resembled a squawk.  
  
“It is only four inches over you, take it like a man.” Sam smirked, leaning down and dropping his voice to whisper into Andy’s ear.  “Or I’ll make you take it.”  The younger man’s hands found their way into Andy’s boxers.  
  
Andy chuckled and shifted his hips into the touch.  “Mmm.  Now that is what I like to hear.”   
  
Sam shook his head but couldn’t help that his smirk widened.  “That wasn’t exactly how I had planned this out.” He slid off the couch for a moment and shucked off his own boxers, followed that by immediately pulling Andy’s boxers off.  Resuming his place on Andy’s lap he guided the other man’s hand around his ass.    
  
Sliding down and prodding Andy found Sam already slick and even a little loose.  “Jesus Sam… it only took me…” His voice had gotten almost painfully husky, catching in his throat like briars.  
  
“Six minutes, thirty seconds to get here.  I was busy for the first 5 of that…” Sam smirked wider and rocked back into Andy’s hands.  
  
“Christ.” Andy closed his eyes and swallowed hard.  Sam shimmied forward and used his hands to position Andy’s cock under his ass.    
  
“Please.” Sam whispered and Andy was undone, hands moving to pull the younger man’s hips downward with a snarl.  The force surprised Sam and he gasped, eyes wide.  “Fuck.”  
  
“That’s what I’m trying to do…” Andy gritted out.  “Christ you’re tight.”  
  
Sam pushed the issue and ground his hips down, causing Andy’s head to fall back.  Then he actually clamped down with his muscles, hugging Andy tighter.  Andy let out a rather inelegant strangled yelp at that, eyes snapping open.  But he didn’t have time to comment as Sam started moving, grinding, hands gripping Andy’s shoulders with white knuckles.    
  
“Harder, dammit.” Andy managed to get out a few minutes later, fingers leaving red marks on Sam’s back.  
  
“Stop complaining, bastard.” Sam sniped, but complied, speeding up and slamming himself down with more force, making damn sure to keep his own erection pressed into Andy’s stomach.    
  
When Andy’s hand finally, finally found its way to Sam’s own straining arousal the younger man yelled out and ground down impossibly harder, the couch creaking in protest beneath them.  
  
Sam lost control first, suddenly forgoing all rhythm to ride Andy fast and erratic through his orgasm, burying his face into the sweat-slick skin of his lover’s neck.  Andy took up the work as Sam slowed, thrusting up a few more times before letting his own orgasm overtake him with a rush.    
  
In an almost comic moment, both men slid limply to one side, ending up bizarrely tangled, but sated, on their sides on the couch.    
  
“Even losers get lucky?” Sam offered, hands in Andy’s sweaty hair and lips on his salty forehead.  
  
“Shut up, smartass.”  Andy smiled into the curve of Sam’s neck.


End file.
